Harvey comes home.

San Francisco paid a long overdue - though never more appropriate - tribute to one of its unsung heroes last Thursday with the unveiling of a bronze bust of Supervisor Harvey Milk . The Hall was regaled in rainbow balloon anemone chandeliers. Old Glory was dressed in her best tie-dye, draped over the balcony of the second story, The Sisters in white, veiled and bejeweled. It had all the pomp and circumstance of a corporate sponsored gala, State Senators stumping. Sure Milk was a visionary, sometimes prophetic - portending his martyrdom - but could he have imagined the movement he was part of being mainstreamed to the point where (to put it as Cleve Jones did) Smirnoff and American Airlines targeted his community as "just another marketing demographic"?

Milk's voice was echoing in the rotunda, booming ominous and ethereal and indecipherable with the acoustics of those coffers, as if he were speaking from some great beyond - though I doubt that'd be his style, because he couldn't have banked on the afterlife if he gave so much of himself to the living. He predicted his own murder, his sacrifice to the movement, giving his life so we - all those queer and questioning and fluid and anything but mainstream - could be public and live openly and with dignity, without fear from the tyranny of regression.

There were other voices - Newsom's was hoarse, and maybe I imagined it, or some part of me wanted to hear it, but I thought I heard him say something about San Francisco values and "eat your heart out, middle America." Tom Ammiano's soprano soared in sharp relief - a pointed "SHUT UP" for anyone who ever wanted to stamp out equality.

Going alone, I thought I'd just play casual observer - mostly to soak up inspiration for writing - but people are drawn to distance. Two women asked if I knew whether Sean Penn was making an appearance, another assumed I was a reporter and thought I was old enough (gasp) to have been around when Dianne Feinstein made the shell-shocked announcement on TV that Milk and Moscone had been killed. He lamented the lack of direct action, the complacency that capitulated, "it's enough to build a website." I bristled a little, said the lack of media coverage made it a losing tactic, and that people had turned to making media of their own. He himself had given up on mainstream media, the tenant of objectivity that "gave voice to crazies".

There was one man that made the decision to get off at the Civic Center station worthwhile on his own. He announced himself by gently teasing me about my back - too young to be aching from standing. A self-described San Francisco native, a man swilling a celebratory bourbon, he sidled up next to me while I was doing my best self-composed fly on the wall. He told me about the Milk he knew - a man he wouldn't have known but for the grace of PBS and "The Times of Harvey Milk" when he was "just a kid in the Bronx". We shot the shit - talking about the fight in November, how 2008 is it - finally it - and how insular San Francisco is, and how somehow short of moving inland, we've got to channel our political energies there. I couldn't help but feel proud to see Victory Fund's logo in the sponsor slideshow. He told me how Milk cut his hair, but he didn't conform - he just simulated the mainstream, and worked from the inside - never losing his principles.

Then there was the grand finale - GSA kids, out at 14, 15 - climbing the marble stairs, pulling back the silk drape, all flashbulbs and a chorus of happy birthday that moved me to tears. Home at last, to ordain the marriages of same-sex couples.

On the way home, a woman wielding a petition outside pleading for 30 sec of my day made me a little sheepish - my profession, but done outside the comfortable confines of an office, the anonymity of ghostwriting behind a screen. It had seemed hard enough to turn out after the 9 to 5 for this event and it made me wonder guiltily whether I still had the fortitude to do the canvassing thing. Made me even more grateful for the hard won victories of our forebears.

Oy gevalt, no matzo?!

It's true, there definitely was a shortage in SF over the weekend. My housemates and I had to resort to eating our haroset on whole wheat table water crackers.

On an unrelated, totally unkosher note, I indulged in some other types of deliciousness over the weekend, including a burger and fritto misto at Magnolia Brewery, spaghetti and meatballs at Emmy's, and poached eggs with buttermilk biscuits and sausage gravy at Universal Cafe. Light, I know.






(If this is starting to look like a food blog, that's probably because eeting is my primary form of recreation. And if it looks like a photo blog, it's because I'm too lethargic from all the eeting to write.)

Photo creds to virgined , rsun78, and eirecubdc.

That's how we roll.

My co-workers and I were "those people" riding around the city a couple weeks ago in Go Cars. Think fumes, squirrelly-handling, incapable of going in reverse, and sometimes they need a push to make it uphill. At least mine did. You're the most hated thing on the road when you're driving them, so luckily people stay away from you. If it weren't for that fact, and the fact that they're taxicab yellow and you can't miss em, I'd say they really shouldn't be street legal. Though I have heard tales of people getting drunk and driving them around...perfectly safe.

It started raining while we were tooling around the Richmond district, and one leaked while the other wouldn't start after sitting for a few minutes.

All in all, though, it was a blast.

Jens Lekman @ Bimbo's 365

Oh, there was many a hipster, to be sure, donning plaid just like the headliner, and their "very unique hairdos" (as David sarcastically sniped). They were out in full effect, professing their "man crushes" and demanding their favorite songs. One was met with an uncharacteristically firm rebuke from Jens: "No. You can't get everything you want in life." But he couldn't keep a straight face long enough to be make his annoyance believable. This guy is too sanguine, too sweet to be cold -- dancing giddily around the stage with his band, all in matching outfits with matching keys around their necks, arms outstretched like airplanes during an electronic instrumental interlude.

No, the hipsters couldn't dissuade me. After all, with a"boyfriendable baritone" and "deadpan style of singing" reminiscent of Stephen Merritt*, what other musician is charming enough to make even the most mundane minutiae lyrical? Seriously, who else can pull off a line like this:

So you pick up your asthma inhaler
and put it against your lips
and oh those lips I've loved

or this

I was slicing up an avocado
when you came up behind me
with your quiet brand new sneakers

or my favorite,

Oh, I still remember "Regulate" with Warren G.
Could that have been back in the sweet summer of 1993?

Hell, he made a song out of Google Map directions!

Wasn't really expecting him to be a comedian, though I guess those witty lyrics had to come from somewhere. He related a story of telling his audience in Florence how he marvelled at what a beautiful city they lived in, and learned his lesson after the show when some fans cornered him and angrily insisted it was a shit hole. So he did a little reverse psychology -- "I hate San Francisco, with your rainbows, and your tiny tiny hummingbirds, and your cute boys and girls...fuck San Francisco. This song's for Oakland." Cheers all around, natch.

He played Sweet Summer's Night on Hammer Hill during an encore, violin and cello subbing for the horns like at this show in Italy:


Reminds me of clapping on a street corner in Santiago...

*Talking smack about hipsters and then linking to Pitchfork...no, the irony's not lost on me.

Grist outdoes itself

Young McHipster has a farm, e-i-e-i-o. And on her farm, she has organic produce, e-i-e-i-o. With a CSA here, and a trucker hat there, here a market, there a Pabst, everywhere an urbanite. Young McHipster has a farm, e-i-e-i-o!

Reminds me of one of those "overheard in San Francisco" moments I had with my housemate at Dolores Park a while back--couple d00ds of the hipster persuasion were sitting near us guzzling (of course) Pabst, and this is their prototypically perfect exchange:

Hipster 1: You're not rockin' the fixie today, man.

Hipster 2: Nah, too many hills.

photo by Tizzie P.

Didn't know they had a name for it...

Overall Shot of San Francisco Protest
Originally uploaded by mattmills

More brilliant reporting from the Chronicle:

The rhetoric Wednesday was not as heated. Direct Action coordinated this year's protest but seemed aware of what has been called the "Code Pink conundrum," in which the activists are so shrill and unpleasant that even those who agree with them are turned off by their tactics.

Update: From the ANSWER Coalition flyer--

BRING ALL THE TROOPS HOME NOW
END COLONIAL OCCUPATION
IRAQ, AFGHANISTAN, PALESTINE, HAITI
MONEY FOR JOBS, HOUSING, HEALTHCARE & SCHOOLS, NOT WAR
STOP U.S. INTERVENTION IN IRAN, VENEZUELA, CUBA, PHILIPPINES...
NOT TO RACISM & ANTI-IMMIGRANT ATTACKS,
DEFEND CIVIL LIBERTIES

I've heard of casting a wide net, but wow...that covers just about everything.

...but I thought empanadas were the new cupcake?

So I know I said I'd blog about our office cupcake tasting, but then I found the post that might've served as inspiration for the day that almost ended in tragedy...delicious, iced tragedy.

I was completely torn between Kara's Cupcakes and That Takes the Cake, but ultimately my chocolate bias won out and I gave the nod to Kara's because of the Fleur De Sel. With that said, I think That Takes the Cake has the most original cupcakes in terms of flavor combinations and cake textures.

My thoughts exactly. I can't believe we did this the week of Thanksgiving. Oh wait, yes I can. And did I mention my housemates and I are hosting a cupcake party soon?

You know, Nosheteria (best food blog name evar) says cupcakes have become passe, but it's gonna take a helluva lot more than them falling out of fashion for me to stop fiending.

The mother of all markets

Back when local food was more necessity than movement:


Alemany Farmer's Market, 1953
Originally uploaded by Telstar Logistics

Mission Mural Tour

Where I work, the last Friday of every month is reserved for "Final Friday Funday" office fieldtrips -- er, off-site meetings? So on leap day, a coworker took us on a walking tour of the murals in the Mission.

Check out all the photos here -- particularly the Megatron-esque gentrification monster. Most photos were taken in Balmy Alley and Clarion Alley by Mark F. and myself.

Silhoutte portal reveals a previous incarnation
of constantly repainted Clarion Alley

Precita Eyes is a community-based mural arts collaboration that offers weekend tours and curates many of these pieces.

OMG she's alive...

...and well. Haven't written since moving to San Francisco, and for lack of a better place to begin, I thought I'd start by sharing some of the more recent activities that have been keeping me gleefully preoccupied, and work backwards (read: SF cupcake tasting still has yet to be chronicled).

Please, try to contain your excitement, hb.

Yesterday: SF Freeze flash mob, at the Powell St. cablecar turnaround. Stood still in the rain, nose running and tears streaming for five minutes while unamused shoppers pushed past. My housemate and her brother had planned to pose jousting with umbrellas, and I ended up holding mine out as a shield. Passersby got increasingly annoyed--"what is this?" "get out of the way" "fucking move"--and I started asking myself: Really? Are you really willing to get poked in the eye with an umbrella spoke for the sake of a performance art? Er, no. Definitely outside the comfort zone, and not something I would've done on my own, but ultimately was glad to be a part of it, risking loss of sight notwithstanding.

Here's a really well composed photo, and some low-res video below. Neither capture this punk/Victorian-esque style couple that stood nearby me, frozen in a kiss for the full five minutes beneath an inside-out umbrella.


SF freeze
Originally uploaded by Marco Sanchez





Next up: Last week's release party for “Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six-Word Memoirs by Writers Famous and Obscure” - inspired by Ernest Hemingway's "For sale: baby shoes, never worn."



A few choice memoirs:

No shit I'm critical - you're flawed. - Elizabeth Koch
Friends all Jewish. I'm merely neurotic. - Brian Mahon
Most successful accomplishments based on spite. - Scott Birch
Big heart protected by sharp tongue. - Kris Kleindienst
Adopted? Are you fucking shitting me? - Darius Logan
Happiness is a warm salami sandwich. - Stanley Bing
Mormon feminist loves husband, hates patriarchy. - Caroline Kline
Never really finished anything, except cake. - Carletta Perkins
Fight. like. hell. for. the. living. - Susie Bright

Was inspired to write a couple less clever ones of my own:

Hated perpetual motion, now can't stop
Privileged social activist: contradiction in terms?
Mellow actor, scattered activist: seeking balance

And finally: Just so I don't look like a shill for Laughing Squid, there's McDonald's in Chinatown for the New Year's celebration.

They were out in full force with a hidg-ous float and colossal puffy happy meal box-shaped tent, complete with flags advertising their offensive "i-am-asian" sitelet. They've actually trademarked the phrase. Mmm, have some cultural appropriation with your Big Mac. Oh, and don't miss their tagline: "i aim to be the best." It's okay to perpetuate the "overachiever" stereotype, cause it's not racist if it's a compliment, right guys?! McVom.

pic courtesy of David's phone

Champion of consumer rights leaves the Chronicle

"Investigative business columnist" David Lazarus is headed to the LA Times.

Since coming to the Chronicle from Wired News in 1999, David Lazarus has been one of the most prolific, and influential, writers at the paper. His coverage of the energy crisis in 2001 earned him the Journalist of the Year award from the Society of Professional Journalists, Northern California chapter. He continues to butt heads with corporate executives and write stories that unambiguously take the side of consumers.

In his final column, he calls for the reawakening of a dormant consumer movement, with muckraking reporters on the corporate watchdog beat leading the charge alongside advocates.

It's a point he made repeatedly during our conversation - that the biggest difference between now and then is that the media have lost interest in consumer advocacy as both a story and a calling.

This, in turn, leaves the consumer movement to a great extent voiceless.

...Still, I attend a lot of public events and I can say with confidence that most consumers haven't given up when it comes to defending their rights. They're frustrated - that goes without saying. They often feel that companies are dedicated solely to outmaneuvering customers.

But people aren't hopeless. They just want to be treated fairly.

...There was a time when businesses believed the customer is always right. That's an exaggeration, of course, but there's a grain of truth in it. Businesses understood that if you treat customers right, they'll keep coming back.

...These days, the shareholder is always right. Businesses focus almost exclusively on placating investors by delivering steady growth quarter after quarter. And to maintain a consistently robust bottom line, many companies reduce overhead by repeatedly cutting back on service.

Lazarus said he never envisioned himself launching a "one-man consumer crusade against corporate malfeasance."

I don't think there's any mistaking that my work is fairly populist in its sentiment. The rap on what I do is that I'm anti-business -- that's what my critics like to say most often than not. I see myself more as pro-accountability. ... Corporations should be accountable. And if you're going to do something, especially if it affects thousands or millions of customers, you should be able to defend that policy...

I was excited to hear that the organization I work with (the Consumer Federation of California) recognized Lazarus with its Journalist of the Year award in 2004. This year SF Weekly named him the city's best columnist:

With the Chron's business section too often serving as a bulletin board for industry press releases, Lazarus brings a healthy dose of skepticism to the notion that corporate America knows best.

The touching farewell:

Not that long ago, my young son finally got around to asking why Daddy's picture appears in the newspaper.

"Well," I replied, "that's because I try to help people and protect them from bad guys."

My son stewed on that for a moment. His eyes lit up.

"Daddy!" he exclaimed. "You're Batman!"

I'm going to miss Gotham. But Metropolis should be fun, too.

I'll be watching for him in the LAT.

Side note: Lazarus is in very good company as a Crossroads alum.

Red Cross scare tactics

via Boing Boing




What do we have to do, huh? Bomb the Ferry
Building? Create an earthquake?

SF Sketchfest '07

So I'm becoming somewhat of a stand-up junkie.

The SF Sketchfest line-up last Monday at Cobb's was David Cross, Maria Bamford, Paul F. Tompkins, Doug Benson, Todd Glass, Hard ‘n Phirm & Jimmy Pardo of UCB Theater's Comedy Death Ray.

Hard 'n Phirm


Too bad this version left out the part about "mezoheroic petrol s'mores." But who knew the former host of "Singled Out" had such talent? So like MTV to stifle all signs of originality.

Some classic David Cross--this is probably my favorite bit of his. Again, on false patriotism:



He spent most of his routine at Cobb's talking about Mitt Romney, the lone Mormon presidential candidate, and why it's so absurd that polls show the American people are more opposed to him for accepting gay marriage (in the past)--AKA promoting equality--than for his religious ideology. It sounded a lot like the "All About Mormons" epidsode of South Park. I prefer David's earlier stuff. He gave insightful commentary on the frighteningly complicit state of the union post 9/11 before it became popular.

Todd Glass was out of control. Here's a sample--not his funniest stuff (thanks, cable TV).



Upcoming show in March--Stephen Lynch.

Alt-Holiday Events in the Bay Area

What better way to understand the true spirit of the holidays (love, acceptance, unity) than to celebrate San Francisco values-style?

Here's a few powerful antidotes to the tasteless consumer frenzy and that atrocious Christmas muzak I'm forced to endure at work:

The MeshugaNutcracker--A New Chanukah Musical
A Klezmer/Broadway-style production set to the music of Tchaikovsky.

A Queer Carol--"Unwrap a different kind of package"
Joe Godfrey'’s gay comic retelling of Dickens' holiday classic.

Santaland Diaries
David Sedaris'’ comedy about his experiences as a Macy'’s elf.

I'm Dreaming of a Wet Christmas
Submergency! is high-speed improv comedy with multimedia technology and squirtguns--the perfect late-night escape from the most wonderful time of the year.

Keep the Yuletide Gay
A Christmas comedy, featuring an incredibly awkward party complete with an alcoholic witch, some Lindsay Lohan perfume, warts, a bloody Santa, a Lionel Ritchie/Diana Ross duet, burnt dinner, some very unexpected skirt chasing.

Home for the Holidays
Featuring the San Francisco Gay Men's Chorus

14th Annual Kung Pao Kosher Comedy
A Jewish comedy on Christmas in a Chinese restaurant

**from SFGate's Holiday 2006 events listing.**

Enough to make O'Reilly's head explode.

Simply gah-jus

from the Chronic-WHUT!-le. (yea, I said it.)

Pride Week 2005

Between going into the Global Exchange/CODEPINK office and Pride Week festivities, I've spent almost more time in San Francisco this week than at home...Bart is my new love. DC Metro, I'm sorry--you just don't have the cooshy seats I need.

Went to the Castro yesterday to watch the Dykes on Bikes parade. I was totally awestruck, all these righteous babes, engines roaring, and topless girlfriends in tow...it was just so inspiring, hundreds of self-assured, powerful--but not aggressive--women together, asserting their right to be there and to create a safe space. Everyone was respectful and very peaceful, despite the crowd reaching almost riot-sized proportions. People in apartments overhead waved and cheered and held signs like "I came out of a vagina" and "Fags <3>

The parade marched conveniently in front of Good Vibrations, and my girlfriends and I all went in and spent an hour and a half testing the merchandise (well, not testing testing) and flipping through how-to books and coffee table art books. That was also a super comfortable environment, everyone was so accepting and the salespeople were very approachable and knowledgeable. I found out Good Vibes is actually a co-op, which makes it even better...should've applied for a job there, it's right around the corner from GX.

I <3>